


Facepalm

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [313]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, mostly angst with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:11:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: facepalm: noun: feys-pahm: the gesture of placing the palm of one's hand across the face, as to express embarrassment, frustration, disbelief, etc.According to Dictionary.com, "Facepalm was first recorded between 2000-05. It very literally combines the words face and palm."





	1. Chapter 1

Mycroft looked up over his specs and sighed before he took them off as Greg walked into their bedroom and all but collapsed into his chair, too tired to even try to rub the days' events from his face.

"What did he do now?"

"Wasn't him," Greg managed to get out.

"Then -?"

"John -"

"Is -"

"He's fine - will be fine, they say."

"At Bart's?"

"Yeah, I'll need to go over to get a statement tomorrow morning, but damn. I thought - we - I - fucked up, Myc."

"Come to bed, love."

Greg nodded, but Mycroft noticed he was beyond exhausted. How he did it every day - with all of his emotions intact - he had no idea. He threw off the duvet and walked over to Greg's chair, knelt in front of him, and slowly removed his shoes and socks.

"You don't have to -"

Mycroft whispered lightly, "I want to, let me, take care of you, hmm?"

Greg closed his eyes as Mycroft's agile fingers undid his trousers and slipped them from his legs, then began on his jacket - "Myc - "

"Shhh. I know. I know."

 

It was definitely a facepalm moment. Sherlock's expression went from cocky arse to pained disbelief as the suspect managed to wheel away from Donovan, and pull a weapon no one had bothered to look for; he was a small-time street hustler with no history of violence, but had connections to bigger game, and both Sherlock and Lestrade had wanted him for years - but no one had patted him down - and only John moved fast enough to push Sherlock out of the way when the shots rang out.

 

How is he? - MH

He'll live. - SH

Greg will be there in the morning. - MH

Do you need anything? - MH

Just John. - SH

 

Sherlock turned off his phone and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment, but opening them again as he all he could see was John's face as he tackled him to the wet pavement. Donovan had sat with him until they knew he would be okay, then she had nodded at him and left without a word. Molly was still there, but she had fallen asleep an hour ago and he had covered her with his coat. He had forgotten how cold hospitals were, and he tugged his suit jacket closer around him. He should have gone home and showered and changed, but he found he couldn't move from the chair.

 

"Here." Sherlock turned to find his brother next to him.

He took the offered coffee, real coffee, not the coffee coloured water they had on offer here, but the high octane stuff that he knew Mycroft had imported from somewhere - it escaped him at the moment.

"When can you see him?"

"Not til tomorrow."

"I sent Anthea to pick up some clothes for you, and your necess -"

"Shit. I didn't tell Mrs. Hud -" Sherlock buried his face into his hands.

Mycroft laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Anthea's rather good at that kind of thing - she'll make her some tea - prognosis?"

Sherlock raised his head and blew out a breath. "They'll know more when he wakes up. They just don't know how long it will take - it was my fault."

"How?"

"I'd been going so hard after this guy - it was like Moriarty all over again - it was - and John - he wouldn't let me out of his sight. It was as if he thought - he believed I'd -" Sherlock lowered his head and whispered, "you have no idea how much I want a cigarette right now."

"I think I do."

"He moved - no one else did - I froze, Myc. I didn't even think to - he didn't have time to disarm him - it's Christmas Eve, Myc. I promised him. I swore it would be different this year. We would get a tree and hang mistletoe and stockings and watch those stupid Christmas movies he loves. He didn't believe me for a minute, knows me too well." He snorted, gazed down at his hands, then looked up into his brother's eyes. "How is Greg? He knows - it's not his fault, right?"

"You know how he is."

Sherlock nodded. "Sorry."

Mycroft shrugged. "He takes everything to heart - always has. It's what I love about him. Sorry - I -"

"Go home to him. He needs you."

"Sherlock."

"No, go - you don't want him waking up on Christmas morning alone. Don't do that to him. I'll let you know how he is, when I know - go home, Myc."

Mycroft nodded and slowly got to his feet. "If you -"

Sherlock pointed at the red EXIT sign and Mycroft nodded again and took his leave.

 

"Hey."

"You okay?" John's voice was little more then a croak as he reached out to touch Sherlock's sleep crinkled face. Sherlock bit his lip as if that would stop the tears from streaming down his face.

"Just a couple bruises - you should have been a footballer -"

"Told me I was too small, and not -" John closed his eyes. "Not angry enough."

"Boy, they didn't know you very well, did they?" Sherlock smiled gently as he bent over him and kissed his forehead.

John coughed and mumbled. "I missed Christmas."

"No. It's 11:56 Christmas Day. You didn't miss it."

"I didn't - I had planned to, but I didn't buy you anything -"

Sherlock tried to speak but nothing came out. John turned his head and whispered, "sorry - love, I should've moved faster."

"Damn it, John."

"Will you - can you raise the bed -"

Sherlock nodded and did as asked.

John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, and saw his lover's face - he hadn't truly slept or showered since the shooting. Hadn't eaten. "Come up here."

"I -" Sherlock shook his head.

"Up here." He patted the bed with his working hand. "Now."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but slipped his shoes off and climbed in next to him.

"Now. Tell me how different next Christmas will be..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit for mydogwatson... :)

"Are you sure we can do this?" Greg whispered as they stood outside John's room.

"I know people. Now, shh..." Mycroft put a long finger to his lips as he silently pushed open the door. The crew that followed him looked more like a SWAT team than elves, but elves they were. Two men carried in a decent sized tree, the most realistic fake tree Mycroft could find, there was only so far the staff could bend the rules even for him and royal decrees, already wrapped in white fairy lights; Greg directed them to put it by the window, then nodded to them in thanks. Two others carried in a table, and still two more placed a plate of Mrs. Hudson's gingerbread biscuits and a pot of tea. Mycroft himself hung a sprig of mistletoe above his brother's sleeping form, and looked down to see John wink and smile gently at him.

"Merry Christmas, Mycroft. Thank you."

Mycroft shook his head. "No, John - thank you - just next time?"

"I'll move faster, promise." John caught Greg's eye and held out his hand. Greg took it and squeezed his fingers carefully. "Merry Christmas, Greg. I'm sure you guys are breaking all sorts of regulations, go home before -"

"Let him take care of you, hmm? There's a decent version of A Christmas Carol on the telly -"

"Alastair Sim?" John grinned.

"Only the best one ever -" Greg moved to switch it on, then left the room quietly with a nod.

Sherlock yawned as the door closed with a click and sniffed the air. "Huh? Gingerbread? John? Where - Wha?"

John laid his hand back into Sherlock's hair and felt him settle against him again as he went back to sleep. "Merry Christmas, love."

 

Thank you, Myc. 

You're quite welcome, brother mine.

 

Mycroft blew out a sigh of relief as he turned off his phone, then rolled over, curled around Greg and closed his eyes.

"Nicest thing you've ever done, Myc."

"Shh, don't let it get around -"

"I love you." 

"Love you, too."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Stardust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13310997) by [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom)




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